"How is he?"
Freezing near the bacta tank, Somnia ran her palm over the warm glass, leaving small streaks in the condensation. Her eyes slid over Sam's body, stopping repeatedly on the numerous scars and fresh wounds sustained in the last battle.
Smirking sadly, the girl gazed thoughtfully into the face of their commander, leader, and friend, who had once again failed to protect himself, making them all worry.
"He'll live. Long and well." Checking the data from the computer, Shorty tossed the tablet onto the long table. With a loud, unpleasant clang, the tech hit the metal surface, causing the few workers to flinch and beat a hasty retreat. "Don't worry. The Chaos and confusion after the battle played into our hands."
Nodding to her friend, Somnia stepped away from the bacta tank. The first shy smile was just beginning to appear on her face when the veteran Assassin's eyes fell upon an unpleasant guest who still hadn't left their ship.
"Master Jedi Fay, what brings you here?"
So much intonation was packed into that question that even the elf, accustomed to word games, was momentarily taken aback, fully realizing the entire spectrum of the attitude the deputy head of the Helldivers felt toward her.
"I wanted to check on Sam, that's all..."
Holding a wounded arm and limping slightly on both legs, the Jedi stood beside Somnia, who let out a weary sigh full of displeasure.
"Hee-hee, no need to be so nervous." Seeing that her words had no effect other than an ironically raised eyebrow, Fay suppressed the urge to roll her eyes... Instead, she looked down modestly, completing the image with a shy, timid smile. "You realize those were just jokes..."
"That's not why I'm angry." Placing her hand on her blaster, Somnia scanned the uninvited guest with narrowed eyes. Though she would gladly kick the cursed manipulator and bitch into open space, Sam clearly favored this brat, so the deputy head had to extinguish the fire of discontent in her chest and endure the elf. "Your games with the Helldivers are costing us too dearly..."
"I heard that the deputy of the deceased Senator Korta thanked you generously, as did Mr. Tarkin with his Judicial Forces, who was saved thanks to the appearance of the Helldiver fleet in the enemy's rear..."
Fay spoke with a hint in her voice, directly stating that the Assassins had received their winnings, along with massive reputation bonuses that rained down on the heads of all the victors in this small but extremely bloody conflict.
Somnia had no answer to that, but the mere sight of her wounded... friend infuriated her, making her feel more than think, though for now, she was managing this affliction.
"...And that's not to mention Rendili, which you so desperately rushed to save. A rumor is going around that they have many vacant shipyards now, and the Helldivers just happen to need ships... Many might think you deliberately left the fleet in orbit to extract as much as possible from the corporation merged with the planet." Twirling a lock of hair around her finger, Fay circled Somnia and stopped exactly by the bacta tank. With an ironic gaze following the print of the woman's palm on the glass, the elf turned back to her companion to continue the conversation, only to be met with the muzzle of a blaster pointed directly at her forehead. "That's unexpected..."
"Don't act like you're smarter than everyone—it doesn't suit you. The image of a blessed fool fits your appearance much better." Easily holding the heavy blaster pistol at arm's length, Somnia stepped back, keeping the large table between herself and Fay, while simultaneously shielding the uninterested Shorty with her body, who continued to silently check charts and attend to her "great" project. "And don't talk about our rewards..."
Smirking crookedly, the deputy head glanced at Sam's body in the bacta.
"Thanks to your efforts, Zeta Magnus will now test his mad genius on our territories, leaving the Republic alone for a while. Given that he managed to lead half of the Katana fleet into the Outer Rim, he'll have every chance to wreak havoc on planets under our responsibility." Pointing the muzzle with emphasis toward the calm Jedi, Somnia circled her companion, forcing the latter to step away from the bacta tank. "And no prizes will change the fact that the Senate will now pay much closer attention to us. Egged on by Tarkin and all the horrors he tells, those cowardly banthas will slap us with sanctions or worse, forcing us to dance entirely to their tune if we want to develop further."
Standing with her back to Sam's tank, the girl pressed a few buttons on her PDA, closing the glass walls with steel shutters, cutting her commander off from any danger... accidental or otherwise.
"So keep your barbs and clever words to yourself. You gained the most from this—sidelining us and warding off the threat to the Republic in the form of the crazy virologist Magnus." Pressing a few buttons, Somnia couldn't resist calling a couple of Helldiver squads to the infirmary. "After everything you've done, I would strongly advise you to leave our ship..."
At that moment, Assassins began running into the room, fully equipped and ready for battle. Assessing the number and equipment of the arriving soldiers, Fay raised her hands conciliatorily, even slightly amazed at how much the Helldiver deputy head exaggerated her danger in open combat. Somnia hadn't hesitated to call three squads of veterans packed in the heaviest and best armor. Two of the arriving dozen even carried portable repeaters with power cell backpacks.
"No need to be so nervous." Smoothly and without haste, the Jedi followed her assigned escort, only turning back at the last moment. She spoke loudly enough for Somnia, who had slumped wearily into a chair, to hear her. "There's no need to paint me as a galactic villain. I was saving the Republic and ordinary people... in my own way."
Tsking at the elf's back as she left with the last word, the deputy head spun in her chair, grumbling and cursing.
"She's right in some ways." The unexpected voice of the Jawa startled the girl. Having already forgotten she wasn't alone in the infirmary, she looked with wide eyes at the small mechanic, still intently digging through her blueprints. "I'm not on her side. There's just sense in her words."
"Pff, and what sense is that?" Unwilling to back down out of pure spite, Somnia reopened the bacta tank shutters, peacefully gazing at Sam's sleeping face. "Killing thousands of Helldivers and pitting potentially dangerous Assassins against an extremely dangerous mutant?"
"Correct." Unfazed by the irony and sarcasm in the voice, Shorty switched her PDA to sleep mode and tore her yellow eyes from the screen. Her hood slipped back slightly but still didn't reveal the Jawa's unknown face. "The Jedi Order had its teeth pulled long ago. No ships, no soldiers. Only diplomats, detectives, archaeologists, guards... Dooku told us."
"I remember." Stubbornly crossing her arms over her chest, Somnia turned away, huffing and blowing hair off her forehead. "He told it quite vividly, even in his signature annoying manner."
"Exactly. So Fay didn't really have a choice. Besides..." Looking thoughtfully toward the bacta tank, Shorty murmured quietly to herself, but Somnia heard her anyway. "Who are we to her, compared to the entire Republic?"
***
"Everything did not go as well as we anticipated."
Shaking the remnants of lightning from his fingers, the dark cloaked figure sneered with contempt, expressing the full extent of his displeasure toward his apprentice with a single look... Although the latter didn't care much at the moment, as the crumpled Senator Palpatine on the floor could barely process anything after three minutes of Force lightning therapy.
His fingers curled, resembling the crooked claws of some beast, his entire body stiffened, and his face was twisted in a grimace of pain and poorly hidden rage, to which the elder of the Banite Sith reacted with a slight smirk and a hint of amusement.
Stepping off the throne and smoothly descending the stairs, Darth Plagueis cracked his stiff neck and began to thoroughly massage his fingertips, dispelling the remnants of the Dark Side of the Force that had settled in his palms after the long use of the complex Force technique.
"Stand up."
The sharp, lashing command rang in Sheev's ears like a whip. Overcoming the pain and partial paralysis, the Dark Lord's apprentice rose to his knees, then, trying not to lean on anything, stood up to his full height.
Twitching occasionally, Palpatine clearly wanted to sit or simply lean against a nearby column, but he dared not show weakness before his master, for such a thing... was never forgiven.
Furthermore, Plagueis disliked filth, and had Sheev's hands, which had been on the floor, touched anything in the room, he would have been "gifted with invigorating charges" again.
"But in any case," the elder Sith continued as if nothing had happened, "the task is complete. Trust in the Chancellor is undermined, the Senate is mired in squabbles, and on the fringes, pirates and old enemies are raising their heads again—wishing to seize the chance."
Approaching a small decorative table where a bottle of wine from the Muun's home planet rested, Plagueis threw back his hood and poured himself a glass with relish, about two fingers deep.
"The militarist party, which has been losing itself among the general background of voices lately, has now become a bit stronger and more united, which will clearly work in our favor later on..."
"Yes, Master." Struggling to pronounce the words, Sheev nonetheless kept his back straight, trying not to invite a new punishment. Though deep down, the still-young man quite reasonably considered everything that had happened a success. Only Ranulf Tarkin caused him a headache... But Sheev decided to deal with him personally and later; for now, another question concerned him. "But what about Magnus and his strange ally? Eighty-six ships of the Katana Fleet flew off in an unknown direction..."
"M? That cyborg? It doesn't matter." Waving the question away dismissively, the Muun sipped from the glass, inhaling the aroma of berries and herbs with pleasure. "Everything he managed to steal from the Rendili archives is just old, unpromising developments."
Recalling a recent conversation with one of his trusted people in the company's upper echelons, Plagueis attached absolutely no importance to what had happened. Old developments and ancient blueprints were not the problem to be concerned about, especially against the backdrop of upcoming events, which the master informed his apprentice of.
"Right now, you should be concerned with something else—Col-Huro. The time has come to test the Order in action. For thousands of years, we have weakened our ancient enemy through intrigue and manipulation... And I want to know what they are capable of now in open combat."
"Yes, Sovereign." Bowing respectfully, Palpatine grimaced as soon as his face was hidden from the seemingly impassive Muun. Suppressing his rage and anger, the Senator from Naboo hid his palms in his sleeves and, straightening up, continued. "Mustag Olus—the ruler of Col-Huro—is extremely manageable and easily influenced... This individual easily agreed to our plan and has already begun creating his new battle droids in massive quantities, as well as ships."
"Good, very good." Holding the wine on his tongue, Plagueis finished the glass, then, taking a deep breath, turned sharply and headed for the exit. "Continue to cover for him for the time being, but don't let him get carried away... When you judge Mustag's army to be strong enough, yet still destructible—pass the data to the Jedi."
Having almost left the office, Darth Plagueis stopped abruptly, slowly turning his head back—thereby driving Palpatine, who knew no reason for such a stop, into mounting dread.
"...By the way. What about that little upstart from the fringes?"
Momentarily lost, Sheev prepared for a new portion of lightning, but realization pierced him a millisecond before his master fully turned to face him.
"Stark? Still running his little schemes." Keeping his eyes on the Muun, the Nabooian felt a drop of blood run down his back. "Together with the Trade Federation and the Xucphra Corporation, they are creating an artificial shortage of bacta, hoping to gain many concessions from the Senate later... Naive dreams, but he is certain he has enough strength to oppose the Republic."
"Hm?"
"I gave him a virus that allows for the alteration of hyperspace exit trajectories. Stark wants to provoke the militarists and demonstratively get rid of the most combat-capable part of the fleet..."
"Has Ranulf Tarkin already exhausted all his usefulness?" Immediately understanding what was being discussed, the Muun posed the suggestion with a hidden threat in his voice. "You put so much effort into his promotion?"
"He hinders more than he benefits now..." Palpatine finally decided to confess. His subordinate from Eriadu caused too many problems, and his shouting annoyed him even more. "The victory against the pirates and the Katana Fleet went to Tarkin's head. There's no escaping his cries in the Senate anymore. The militarist party is stronger and more robust than ever in the last thousand years. Replacing the head with someone much more loyal and sensible shouldn't interfere."
"I see." Nodding to his thoughts, Plagueis was clearly weighing the scenarios. "See to it that the pacifists in the Senate benefit from all this."
Understanding the further steps and their meaning, Sheev nodded with satisfaction, momentarily forgetting even the elder Sith's displeasure.
"You want to promote their 'rising' star?" Calculating something in his head, Sheev answered his own question. "Valorum is a good candidate for the post of Chancellor. Weak, indecisive, and easily led, yet from a good family and with many connections... A good choice."
Grunting at his apprentice's words, Plagueis swept his cloak grandiosely and walked out of the briefing room, where he had been torturing his junior comrade a few minutes ago, with a rhythmic stride.
***
"Mr. Magnus, should we retreat now? Does the Republic have no strength to oppose us?"
In a bass voice, one of Zeta's clones timidly asked the question that troubled him. Following on the giant's heels, the clone looked around at other copies, staff, and Magnus's subordinates for support, even at the suspicious cyborg who inspired far more dread than his mad creator.
But no one dared to support the eccentric clone, already having buried the idiot who dared to argue with the original.
Treading through the corridors of the massive station located in the Outer Rim on an asteroid forgotten by the world, the procession reached the final office with windows covered by steel plates.
Dispersing to their places, Magnus's retinue froze in silent anticipation while their master, along with his metallic ally, stood at the head of the table, discussing something quietly.
They spoke calmly for several minutes before the giant thundered with laughter, clutching his own stomach.
"Don't worry, when the time comes, I will provide you with everything I promised." Slowly stepping with his mighty legs, Zeta approached the viewport, behind which lay the station's largest hangar, once used for construction equipment and mining ships. The massive room, which could easily fit several Cruisers, had an exit to open space from which a powerful shield protected the hangar's inhabitants. "And even more, my friend."
"For now, those are just words... Friend."
Standing nearby, the cyborg showed not a hint of doubt or fear as the Arkanian mutant loomed over his companion.
The eerie seconds of deafening silence were broken by Zeta's quiet voice.
"You're right. Words are nothing without deeds." Pressing the final button on the PDA, Magnus set the armored viewport plates in motion, which slowly crawled upward to reveal the spacious hangar. "I will show you that I take our plan... our vengeance... extremely seriously!"
Grandiosely thrusting his fist upward, Magnus squared his shoulders and continued to gaze through the viewport much more calmly.
"Vengeance? That will require more than just a new body for me," the cyborg smirked joylessly, crossing his arms over his chest, mimicking human movement or indulging a habit, "hundreds of ships and thousands of warriors. Even if you create the deadliest virus, without an army—we will achieve nothing..."
"Millions of warriors!"
"But... Friend," spitting out the last word, the Shrike finally turned his head to his companion, "where do you plan to get them? It takes several months to create one of your clones. I doubt you can churn them out in batches..."
"I can't churn out my own. But theirs..."
The armor plates opened fully, revealing to everyone gathered in the hall a view of the massive hangar... filled to the brim with sentients and ships that were constantly moving—going about their business.
Tens of thousands of Yam'rii, young and recently hatched individuals, scurried about the hangar, performing various tasks. Massive bugs, the size of a single-seat Speeder, carried mutated eggs of their kin deep into the complex—eggs far more numerous than a single clutch could produce.
Above the heads of the insectoid beings hovered ships, slowly leaving the hangar. Bristling with guns, the repaired Dreadnoughts of the Katana Fleet exited into open space and took their places beside their twin brothers, making room for those waiting their turn for repairs.
In the space itself, visible through the hangar door, they had already begun assembling shipyard prototypes, the blueprints for which had been stolen from Rendili. Drones scurrying around the asteroid by the thousands shuttled in all directions, slowly assembling the massive structures.
"Soon... very soon, my friend. Our vengeance will be fulfilled."
"Yes," watching in fascination as an army was created before his eyes, the cyborg nodded respectfully to his ally, who had once again managed to surprise the old Bith, "friend."
***
***
Read early on Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/Granulan